Book VIII, Epigram 14 (Ker)

That your orchard trees from Cilicia may not grow wan and dread the winter, nor too keen an air nip the tender boughs, glass casements facing the wintry south winds admit the clear suns and daylight undefiled. But to me is assigned a garret, shut in by an ill-fitting window, in which even Boreas himself would not care to abide. Is it in such a lodging you cruelly bid your old friend dwell? Then as the guest of one of your trees I shall be more protected.